Homeless Problems

After Dakota’s first, traumatic splitboarding experience, Andy and I were starving and ready for food.

David was still in town, so the three of us parked our vans in the Kayak Lot, which if you’ve been following along you’ve heard me mention before. The Kayak Lot is a spot in downtown Frisco where I’ve spent many winter nights with van friends before. It has easy access to bars and restaurants right out your front door. We walked down Main Street and spent the evening sharing stories over beers and tacos.

The next day was Valentine’s Day, a holiday that I’ve done my best to ignore for the last few years

Even though I was still dating my boyfriend at this time, we wouldn’t be spending the holiday together and I had told myself that it was totally fine. But just as Valentine’s Day had done to me for the past few years, as evening approached the loneliness and memories of failed relationships hit hard.

I had stopped at a grocery store to fill my water jugs and was surrounded by couples and men picking up ingredients to cook an impressive dinner for their significant others. Cue the loneliness. There were signs all over the grocery store advertising a free chocolate bar and that’s when I decided I’d avoid this Valentine’s Day slump by being my own valentine. I was going to treat myself to an actual bottle of wine (typically this is consumed from a box, so a bottle feels special), and some nice chocolate.

I got in the checkout line with my fancy chocolate and my 6-gallon water jug, feeling better already.

The cashier looked at my cart and says, “Oh great, you must be a (grocery store perks club) member!”

My heart dropped.

“Oh no, I’m not…” I said, suddenly realizing that the free chocolate was only for members. I figured she’d offer to sign me up and we could put this all behind us.

“So… do you still want that chocolate bar then?” she asked.

At this point I was flustered and suddenly felt like I might cry, so I nodded and paid for the free chocolate bar that I’d be eating alone by myself in the van later.

As I poured my glass of wine and started to recover from the embarrassing chocolate situation, I got a text from Andy. He was on his way to the Kayak Lot.

We spent the next few hours sharing dinner, drinking, and eating chocolate in the van. It reminded me a lot of the unexpected Valentine’s Day I had the year before (read the story here) with a friend down in Jupiter, Florida. Although it was an unconventional Valentine’s Day spent without my partner, I felt like I had beat the Valentine’s Day demons yet again.

The next day Andy and I attempted another splitboarding adventure, with a longer route planned this time and the easy decision to leave Dakota behind.

We began the journey uphill and it was certainly humbling as I was gasping for air and slipping on the snow.

Some hikers passed us on their way up and we considered that maybe hiking in our boots would be faster at this point, but we stuck with the plan and continued on our skis.

A storm was supposed to come through and sure enough, the sky started to get dark and the wind picked up as we were approaching the peak. The windswept snow was more like freshly-polished ice and I felt like no matter how hard I tried, every step forward was followed by sliding backward.

We were only probably 100 feet from the top and I decided that was good enough for me. I’m thankful Andy didn’t get any photo evidence of this moment, as I laid sprawled out on the ice, feeling defeated.

We got ready to descend, which was sure to make the long journey uphill worth the struggle. I checked the time and saw that our adventure had taken much longer than anticipated and I had to work soon. We had walkie talkies, so we could check in with each other, but my journey down had to be quick in order for me to return to the van in time for work.

The powder, the incline, and the spacing of the trees on the way down were perfect. Without Dakota in tow, I had a much easier time adjusting to my new board now that I didn’t have to fear colliding with her. Eventually, I made it to the parking lot and ran to the van, with just minutes to spare before work. I logged into the computer, attempted to fix my helmet hair, and tried to warm the redness out of my cheeks. That’s when I saw, my class had been canceled and I had run back to the van for nothing.

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Part of the reason why Valentine’s Day couldn’t be spent with my boyfriend, besides work conflicts, was because I had a flight to catch out of Denver a few days later. I’d be flying back to Charlotte to spend some time with my sister as she recovered from surgery.

I have some van friends that also have a condo near Copper Mountain and they have been extremely helpful by letting me use their condo facilities to shower when I’m in town.

After a few days of sweaty splitboarding adventures, I wanted a shower before I got on the plane.

I had showered there a few times this winter already and it was such a nice convenience since the closest Planet Fitness location to Copper Mountain is 2 hours away. This shower is in the business center of their condo complex and has a private men’s and women’s restroom and shower without any keys or access codes needed.

I was mid-shower when I thought I heard someone yelling outside the door. I didn’t think much of it because there are condos within that building and assumed it was just someone walking past the door. Then I realized they were knocking on the bathroom door and yelling.

“Someone’s in here!” I offered, even though they clearly knew that by the locked door handle. I was hoping it wasn’t maintenance or anyone getting ready to unlock the door.

“I’m calling the cops!” a man’s voice yelled back.

“What??” I said, unsure that I had heard correctly. Why would he be calling the cops?!

“You can’t be here! This isn’t a homeless shelter! I’m calling the cops!” he yelled.

I froze, panicking.

Despite the fact that I live a very alternative lifestyle, I’m a rule-follower at heart, and getting in trouble is just not my style.

“I’m allowed to be here! My friends live here and gave me permission to use the shower!” I yelled back, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

My brain and heart were competing to see who could race faster. I was shaking and terrified. It’s one thing to be yelled at, but it adds an entirely different element when you’re naked and unsure of who is on the other side of the door.

I was still covered in suds so I couldn’t jump out yet. Did I have time to do my hair? If the cops were truly on their way, I probably had time to finish my shower at least, right?

I quickly finished showering and got dressed, wondering what this stranger would think when he realized that the “homeless person” he was harassing turned out to be not very homeless-looking.

I braced myself and opened the door.

Nobody was there.

I quickly walked down the hall and to the doors of the building without seeing another soul.

I unlocked the van and just as I pulled the handle, I saw the note.
“COPS WILL BE CALLED NEXT TIME YOU COME BACK, BUM!”

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I flew to Charlotte, North Carolina the next day to spend time with my sister. The last step in her cancer treatment was the surgery she had a few weeks prior, but she was not yet cleared to lift her baby yet so my family was taking turns helping out.

I was thankful to go and be there for her. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, it was nice to spend a week with her and my nephew.

Typically as an aunt, you get to spend your “aunt time” playing with, spoiling, and maybe teaching your nieces or nephews a few things their parents don’t want you to. Going to help my sister threw me into a different role as an aunt.

Now I was responsible for preparing and feeding meals and bottles, changing diapers, doing daycare drop-offs, and giving baths. I got to read bedtime stories and settle him into his crib for the night. I got to be so much more than just an aunt that week and I cherished every second of that time with him.

I’m not ready for kids of my own and I’m thankful that my journey didn’t involve kids any sooner, but an opportunity to spend so much time with my nephew fed a little part of me that needed some baby time. It also certainly reinforced that I don’t need my own baby and I’m perfectly content borrowing babies from others.

My trip to my sister’s house went by quickly but I was lucky to overlap with my mom for a day as she came to be the next caretaker. This has been a strange year for seeing my family because everyone has been taking their turns helping my sister, which has impacted my opportunities to see my parents. I know it’s a temporary shift, but it’s still hard to go so long without family time.

For the past 3 years, my mom, my sister, and I have had a mother and daughters weekend (somehow named M.A.D. weekend) where we pick a location somewhere in the US and the three of us meet up for a long weekend together. This gives us a chance to spend some quality time just with the three of us since most of our chances to see each other are during holidays and involve so many other family members. This year though, with my sister having a baby and then her cancer diagnosis, we weren’t able to plan a trip. But for one night, all three of us were in Charlotte. My brother-in-law watched the baby so we could go out for a fancy dinner with lots of wine and pretend for a night that everything was normal.

I flew back to Denver the next day, happy to be reunited with Dakota, and quickly made the journey back to the boys in Gunnison.

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I had a few days in Gunnison before I had to return to Frisco to get a biopsy done on my foot.

For a few months now I had been working on a treatment plan for my eczema and this was the final step to being approved for a new medication. I was hopeful that this was a step towards eventual relief, but I was dreading this biopsy.

I got one last day of riding in, and another snowy hike with Dakota before the procedure. My doctor reassured me that I’d be fine to ride again in a few days, but I knew it would probably be a few days of minimal exercise for both me and Dakota until then.

After the procedure, I drove out to one of my favorite spots, Twin Lakes, to enjoy some peace and quiet camping out in nature. I wanted a spot where I could relax in the sunshine, but I wasn’t quite ready to be back in a house.

Dakota and I enjoyed two days there, soaking up all the sun we could while still being bundled up in cold, winter temperatures. With few people out camping there the first week in March, Dakota could wander around, run through the snow, and spend plenty of time off-leash.

I started to notice that she was acting “off” though and my dog-mom worrying kicked in. She was peeing a lot and didn’t seem to be marking her territory. Then she ran out onto the ice and began throwing up. Time for me to panic.

This campsite wasn’t near any cities and there were only a handful of vets in the area, none of them with emergency services. I could make appointments for early next week, but nobody could get us in today.

I found a mobile vet in the area and gave him a call. “Ah, if you had called earlier, I would have been able to squeeze you in, but I’m fully booked now.” A dog mom’s worst nightmare. I had agonized over calling just long enough to be sure that I needed to, and now that might make the difference between getting her care today or early next week.

Finally, I found a vet that could get her an appointment the next day. As long as she was still eating and drinking, we could wait until then.

Our appointment led us to find that Dakota had a UTI, so after a few tests and some strong antibiotics were subscribed, we were back on the road. I was in a lot of pain from my biopsy and walking was difficult. I was tired of being a strong, independent woman and was ready to have someone take care of me. So we made the journey back to Gunnison.

This trip wasn’t like I had expected though. My boyfriend and I argued a lot and I found it difficult to ask him for help. I felt unhappiness settling deep inside me.

“Do you still want to be with me?” I finally asked him.

“I mean, I think so,” he said.

And that’s when I knew it was over.

I’ve been trying to learn from some of the hard lessons offered to me after all the tough relationships and breakups I had been through over the past few years. I’m trying to not have to learn them many times in a row anymore. So when someone isn’t sure they want to be with me, when “yes, definitely,” becomes, “I think so,” it’s time for me to go.

It was hard though. Neither of us were really ready for it to be over. We typically enjoyed our time together, but lately, it felt a lot harder. We were starting to see that we might not be as compatible as we hoped. And so with heavy hearts, we said our goodbyes.

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This was the first week in March and at his time, the first cases of Coronavirus were hitting the US.

Even though I work “in China” and had seen the effects of COVID-19 there, I was still in the mindset that this was just like the flu for some reason. I left my boyfriend’s house for the last time, took myself to Walmart to buy the necessary post-breakup items (a new candle, sweatpants, and Oreos), and I remember being surprised to see a few people wearing masks as I aimlessly wandered around the store.

My broken heart needed some desert, so I pointed the van west.

I couldn’t snowboard because of my foot, so all I wanted was to be somewhere warm enough to sit outside.

I wanted to be in Moab.

I made it to the Colorado/Utah border and decided I had done enough driving for one day. I found a nice little desert spot without another soul in sight and I settled in to grieve.

I feel like I’ve written about this so many times before. I spend a few days feeling sad and sorry for myself, then pick myself up and do my best to keep moving forward. It’s a cycle that I’m pretty tired of but yet, here we are.

I wallowed for a few days and then figured I’d head to the gym in Grand Junction for one more shower before I’d be away from showers for a bit. In the few days between leaving Gunnison and settling into Fruita, Coronavirus had made some huge waves. I figured I should call Planet Fitness before driving there just to make sure they hadn’t closed. I got the answering machine, with the unwelcome message that they would be closed indefinitely. I had wallowed too long and now I was 7 days unshowered with no great plan B. On top of that, Moab was strictly shut down to visitors so my travel plans would need to change. It was starting to seem like maybe the worst possible time to go through a breakup.

The isolation was good for me at first. I needed a few days alone. But after a few days, all I wanted was a distraction.

All of the new information about this virus was overwhelming and making it difficult to understand what I should and should not be doing. The general consensus was “go home, stay home,” but what if you don’t have a home?

Some vanlifers were heading as far into the wilderness as possible while others were traveling to stay with family. My closest family was 30 hours away and would involve driving through many states over just as many days. Meanwhile, I found myself in a secluded, desert campsite near a big city and free outdoor water just a few miles up the road. I felt too overwhelmed to make any other decisions about where I should go, so I made the decision to stay right there until I couldn’t stay any longer.

On one of my first mornings in this spot, I was in the middle of working when I thought I had heard a dog bark outside the van. I questioned my own sanity more than the possibility of a dog being outside since it was 2 AM and I had barely slept, the possibilities of me imagining the sound were very high.

As soon as I finished work, I opened the side door to let Dakota out, but she stood in the doorway sniffing. This always sends a chill up my spine since I don’t know what will be outside of the doorway, ready to greet us. After a minute though, she jumped out and wandered around as if everything was normal.

Soon, out of the corner of my eye, something moved out from under the van and I nearly had a heart attack.

It was a dog, about half the size of Dakota, tail tucked and terrified. As soon as I made eye contact, it retreated back under the van.

I encouraged it to come back out and it wasn’t long before it was hesitantly following Dakota around the campsite. I called the number on its tag and luckily the owner picked up and said he’d be there to get the pup in an hour.

The dog was sweet and got along well with Dakota, but it was a cattle dog and therefore smelled like a cattle dog. I was a bit relieved to not have to put him in my van.

I ran a couple errands that day and treated myself to a bag of M&Ms while at the gas station. I patiently tucked them away instead of eating them in the parking lot, saving them for a sunset treat.

As I drove back down the long, dirt road to my campsite, I decided I’d try and exercise Dakota the only way I could right now. Even though I was almost two weeks post-biopsy, I could still barely walk and Dakota was in desperate need of some exercise.

I opened the van door and let her out to run as I drove back to camp. My recent ex-boyfriend’s dog did this almost daily and we had let Dakota run with him a few times, so I was hoping she’d know what to do.

I slowly started driving, hanging my head out the window, and yelling encouragement to my confused dog.

She started running with the van but I could see the panic in her eyes. These were desperate times though, so I made her keep running. Finally, I could no longer stand the terrified look on Dakota’s face as she thought I was leaving her behind, so I opened the door and she bolted her way inside, happy to be rescued.

At camp, I set up my chair in anticipation of my M&Ms and sunset show. Despite my throbbing foot, my broken heart, and all the craziness going on in the world around me, I was happy. I was enjoying my chocolate and taking in the sights and sounds of the desert sprawling endlessly around me.

Then, I heard something moving behind me.

A cow.

Of course, it’s a cow.

It’s always a damn cow.

“Don’t waste a second of your time convincing other people you’re worth loving.”

Atticus